Even so, she missed the simplicity of that way of life. It had been hard, but there had never been any question about what was expected of her, and she had never felt that she was not equal to any task she might need to undertake. Now there were so many doubts, so many uncertainties. As much as she’d changed on the outside, her mind had changed even more dramatically. Her close connection with the magic of understanding had made her more curious and more perceptive. She had thoughts and notions that would have bewildered the unsophisticated girl who’d left Fenhold Village what seemed like a lifetime ago.
Penny looked up from her feet. The queen was still walking, but she was looking back at her, her eyes sad. Penny’s blush deepened. It was difficult to get used to the idea that someone could see her thoughts. Her own abilities had progressed along those lines, and she tried hard to not read people around her without their permission, but it wasn’t something that was so easily bottled up. She’d been lucky to discover that the people closest to her were not hiding any dark, secret thoughts, nothing that would have changed her view of them.
In front of Anneli, Penny saw a gate. A low wall stretched out from either side of it, and there were guards in the towers spaced along the wall. A sense of dread washed over Penny, and the sword sent a small tingle of excitement into her thigh.
Anneli stopped. “The barracks are down that way,” she said, pointing to the left. “And this is the prison.”
Penny peered past the bars of the gate, trying to make out some detail of the interior. “Why are we here?”
“This is where we’ve been keeping the Dourosh prisoners.”
“Within the city walls? I’d imagined they were being kept somewhere outside.”
“There are only storehouses along this last block we passed. No one lives nearby, and the officers all have strong magical affinities, keeping them and the men in the barracks safe from corruption.”
“We’re coming to see the prisoners?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So far there’s been no evidence that Dourok’s corruption is fading. He can reach them even here.” She glanced down at the sword. “But I wondered if that might have some effect.”
Penny put her hand on the hilt of the Lion’s Sword. At Anneli’s words, its humming had intensified. She closed her eyes. “It wants… something.”
“What?”
She swallowed. “I think it wants to kill them.”
Anneli reached out and placed her hand on Penny’s cheek. She opened her eyes at the touch.
“Lanioc created it to oppose Dourok,” Anneli said. “It is no doubt imbued with a hatred of him and all those who are in his thrall.”
“What if we go in there and I can’t control it?”
“We’ll be separated from the prisoners by bars.”
“Even so… I don’t want to do it. I’m scared.”
Anneli watched Penny’s face for several moments. Her expression was hard but not cruel. Her eyes darted back to the sword, and she held a palm out toward it, gauging its energy. “All right, Penny.”
“You won’t make me go in?”
“I will not.”
The sword’s excitement receded slightly, and Penny took a breath. She felt like she was going to collapse and stepped over to lean against the nearest wall.
“This has told me a great deal already. The sword is imbued with the four types of magic, this we knew. But like the ward surrounding the Great Forest, it is attuned to detect Dourok’s influence as well. Learn to read the sword’s reactions, Penny. It could save your life.”
Penny straightened, feeling a bit better. “It’s not just detecting the corruption… it has a desire.” She blanched. “It… it craves the blood of the Dourosh.”
Anneli shook her head. “I know it might feel that way, but that’s not quite what I’m sensing from it. I think it’s rather a—”
“What would you know?” Penny snapped. “You’re not the one wearing the thing, are you? You’re not the one who can wield it.” She put her hand on the hilt and narrowed her eyes.
Anneli’s brow wrinkled. “No… I’m not.”
Penny released the hilt and brought her hand up to her mouth. “Oh, Anneli… I’m so sorry. I don’t know where those words came from.”
Anneli nodded. “Yes, you do. We both do. I apologize, Penny. It was a mistake to bring you here. We should not expose the sword to any Dourosh unless we are prepared to let it do what it was designed to do. Take my hand. Please.”
Penny stepped forward and let Anneli wrap her fingers around hers. The two women turned and began walking back the way they had come. With every step, Penny felt less on edge, and by the time they were two blocks away, the throbbing from the sword had faded back to its usual gentle hum.
They walked in silence until they reached the palace, and as they stopped in the great hall, Anneli put her hands on Penny’s shoulders.
“When you are in the heat of battle, you will not be able to simply walk away,” she said. “Fighting against flying orbs is one thing, but when facing the Dourosh, it will be even more difficult to keep control of your mind and body. I question whether you should even try. As you’ve said before, trying to hold back might endanger your life or the lives of those you care about.”
“So all this time I’ve spent trying to control the sword has been wasted?”
“No. When the fighting is over, you’ll still need to sheathe the sword again. That will be the true test of your will. Remember who you are. Remember the things you believe in. And most of all, remember that this sword is simply a tool. That is something that Lanioc himself forgot, but now you know better.”
Penny nodded and managed a smile as the queen turned toward the throne room, leaving her standing alone in the immense, echoing chamber.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Army of Lanion
Four thousand soldiers were amassed outside the western gate of Lanion. On the ramparts above them, Penny stood with Anneli, looking out at the spectacle. The sunlight glinted off thousands of suits of silvery armor, helmets, shields and spearheads. She’d read about how a unit of Lanosh infantry was organized. Every man and woman was armed with a sword, a shield and a four-foot-long spear that could be either thrust or thrown. Separate units of archers were arranged on the flanks of the spears. They were trained to launch direct volleys at the enemy during the initial stages of a battle then fall back, behind the square of spears, and continue to attack the rear ranks of the enemy with arcing shots over the heads of their comrades.
There were also several units of cavalry among the ranks. Lanosh cavalry were designed for speed, lightly armored with stiff leather breastplates and carrying small round shields and short lances. The Dourosh did not employ cavalry of their own—animals like horses did not respond well to Dourok’s corrupting magic—so during a pitched battle, Lanosh cavalry was used to disrupt Dourosh archers, if there were any, and harass the flanks of their foot soldiers.
All this assumed a traditional battle on an open field, of course. From reading the history of the Lanosh, Penny knew that most conflicts with the Dourosh occurred in the forest and quickly devolved into fast-moving, disorganized skirmishes with only a few hundred soldiers on either side. One on one, the Lanosh were better fighters, so this usually worked to their advantage. The times the Dourosh were able to effectively bring their greater numbers to bear, though, having the army trained in traditional tactics had proven invaluable. Such battles rarely occurred more than once a generation, but they always affected the balance of power in the Great Forest.
Penny made a rough count of the brightly colored flags that marked the distinct units. “Will it be enough?” she asked. “From here it doesn’t look like much.”
“It isn’t much, but we lost so many during the siege. We’ve already drawn too heavily from the civilian population as it is. Many of the soldiers you see have mere months of training. And nearly all the defenders who will remain behind are abl
e-bodied civilians who’ve volunteered to defend the city while the regular army is away on this campaign. They wouldn’t be a match against the Dourosh in the field, but here, behind the walls and protecting their homes, they can fare well enough.”
Penny watched as a contingent of cavalry began to move. Anneli had told her the marching order. The bulk of the cavalry would scout ahead and make sure the road was clear. The main army would travel several hours behind them, with Anneli and her entourage of palace guards near the center. Behind them would be the supply wagons, and finally a smaller cavalry unit would bring up the rear to protect the wagons.
The road would take them toward Lake Eranith, the large body of water at the center of the Great Forest. They would take the fork leading north; the southern route crossed a ford on the Ancieth River before continuing around the bottom edge of the lake. A few miles up the road, they would come to another fork. One road went west, straight into the ruins of Eranion, and the other ran along the eastern edge of the lake before terminating at the remains of a long-abandoned fortress on the northeastern shore. From there, they would enter the North Wood, traveling along the course of the Dranith River, but there would be no more roads. The North Wood was dominated by rough, rocky terrain. In places they would have to climb down and up the sides of ravines or wind their way through fields of sharp rocks. The wagons would have to be unloaded and the supplies packed onto the backs of the soldiers. The cavalry would also have to remain behind. Anneli had said that because of the size of the army and the roughness of the terrain, the trip would take over two weeks, maybe even longer. It all depended on what kind of resistance they met along the way.
The cavalry were now a ways down the road, and there was a call from a trumpet. The call was repeated half a dozen times, and like a pool of honey spreading across a slice of toasted bread, the edge of the army began to shift. Anneli stood still, watching. They did not need to rush to join the army; they and their entourage would be mounted and would be able to easily catch up.
Penny looked behind her, into the streets of Lanion, where the palace guard waited with their horses. She spotted William, Owen and Stephen among them. Owen was now an adequate caster, but it was unlikely that the knights would make any difference in the coming battle. However, the two women on the ramparts would benefit from their company during the march.
Despite her earlier intentions, Anneli had not broken off her relationship with Sir Stephen. Penny sensed that the queen had decided that he was not a distraction. His love and attention were instead a comfort to her. He reminded her that she needed to rest now and then, to let herself have some pleasure despite the gravity of recent events.
For Penny, it went beyond comfort. William’s presence was one of the few things that helped keep her steady. His hand in hers, or the feel of his breath on her neck as they slept, gave her the strength to resist the pull of the Lion’s Sword.
She turned again. Anneli was watching her.
The queen nodded slightly, picking up on her thoughts. “If you lose him,” she said slowly, “if he falls in battle, you must find your strength within. You cannot let your success or failure be dependent on anyone but yourself.”
“If I lose him,” Penny said sharply, “then I won’t care what happens.”
Anneli shook her head. “No, Penny. You don’t get to be selfish. It’s not in your nature, and neither is that tone. It’s the sword that makes you short tempered.”
Penny glanced down at the weapon resting on her hip. “I know. I’m sorry. Thinking of what might happen to William or Owen… to any of us… I don’t want to confront it. I can’t.”
“You must prepare yourself for anything. In war, there is no time for hesitation.”
“I know.”
The rear end of the army began to move, and there was a commotion among the wagons as the draft horses were nudged into action.
“There will be much time to think during the journey,” Anneli said, “but none once the battle has commenced. Use the time you have.”
The queen turned toward the tower to their right. Penny followed, saying nothing as they entered the tower and made their way down the spiraling steps. As they emerged into the plaza just inside the gate, the palace guard snapped to attention. Anneli waved for her and Penny’s horses.
She turned to look at Penny. “Remember that you have a spark of magic within you. That spark is what lets you wield the sword. It is what gives you control.”
Without another word, Anneli mounted her horse, took the reins from the groom and spurred the animal into a gallop. She disappeared through the gate, leaving Penny scrambling to mount her own horse and join the palace guard as they went off in pursuit of their queen.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dourok’s Plans
General Gralock frowned at the sight of Hansik, Dourok’s steward. The bent old man was coming toward him as he led his band of soldiers back into Dournion. Gralock halted his men and stood in place, making the steward come to him. He smiled slightly as he saw that the ancient conniver was out of breath.
“My men have spent the entire winter in the wilderness,” he said before Hansik could speak. “I expect private quarters to be made available for each of them, and they are to have a hot meal within the hour. After that, hot water for bathing followed by twelve hours of undisturbed rest.”
Hansik chewed his lip, nodding. His teeth found a flake of dry skin, and he pulled it from his lip and into his mouth. “For your men, of course. But you must come see Lord Dourok immediately.”
Gralock balled his hand into a fist. He placed his other hand on the hilt of his sword. “Did Lord Dourok say ‘immediately’?”
Hansik balked. “He—he said you were to come see him once you returned.”
Gralock grinned. He had caught Hansik in a little lie. It was a minor victory, but a victory nonetheless. Even so, it would not be wise to keep Dourok waiting. “You will see to the needs of my men personally,” he said, stepping past Hansik. “I know the way.”
The steward began to protest, but Gralock ignored him. The new city had grown somewhat during the winter, but it was no less ugly. He marched through the muddy streets, trying to ignore the stench of human waste rising up from the muck now that it was beginning to thaw. Every building he passed was crowded with men, some even having to share beds, sleeping in shifts. He walked past a long two-story structure where some of the women were housed. A gang of men were loitering outside it, patiently waiting for a turn with one of them. As his eyes passed across the dirt-stained faces, the greasy hair and the fetid clothes of the soldiers, he summoned up a kernel of sympathy for the women inside. To Lord Dourok, they were only good for producing more soldiers for his army. They were little more than slaves, with every male Dourosh their master.
As he reached the only stone structure in the city, a tower rising up three stories, he pushed the subversive thoughts from his mind. He announced himself to the guards at the door and waited for them to confirm that he was expected.
As he stepped inside, a rush of warm, sweet-smelling air passed over him. Dourok didn’t want to smell the stench of the streets either. The temperature inside was pleasant, just warm enough to keep the chill off but not so hot as to make the chamber stifling.
General Gralock stood in front of the throne listening to footsteps as they made their way down from the second story. He turned toward the stairs as Dourok descended the last of them. He bowed deeply. Dourok gestured for him to straighten himself then took a seat on his throne. A servant appeared from a side room with another chair and set it down, facing the throne.
Gralock approached it and bowed once more before he sat. For the first time since entering, he looked Dourok in the eyes. It was always curious to see the clear, pleasant face. Everyone he influenced was marked by his magic, their features twisted, their skin turned thick and dark, but Dourok himself was free of any blemish. He was tall and slenderly built, and shiny blonde hair cascaded across his shoulders.
Despite his unnaturally long life, he looked to be no older than twenty-five.
“The scouts,” he asked, his voice high and soft. “What became of them?”
“We killed several. I know you wished them taken alive, but once we engaged them, I could see that there was no chance of any of them surrendering. Two escaped. One was wounded. We tracked them as far as we could before we were forced to stop because of the weather. The winter settled in then, and we could not travel any farther until the thaw.”
Gralock cleared his throat, watching Dourok’s expression. He already knew all of this, of course—he’d communicated with Gralock remotely several times during the winter—but Dourok was the type of man who liked to double and triple verify.
“And when travel became possible once again?”
“We found the place where one of the scouts had wintered, but he was already gone. Judging by the way the snow had melted around his tracks, he was already more than a day ahead of us. My men were too weak and hungry for a pursuit, so I felt it best to return here.”
Lord Dourok nodded. “I thank you for your efforts, but the scout is of little consequence now. Our winter plans have progressed nicely.”
Gralock raised an eyebrow. “He got through, then?”
Dourok smiled. “We were fortunate. He encountered a party of knights shortly after leaving the forest. I began working on them immediately. In under a week, they were all in my thrall. He’s now made it all the way to the throne room of Mehrkohst Castle and sits by King Heinrich’s side as his trusted advisor.”
“Then the king himself is under your control?”
Dourok sighed. “It was all too perfect. These past two thousand years, I’d forgotten how easy it was to corrupt the hornless. They are like children, General. It really is remarkable. But you’ll see soon enough. The armies of Gronstave are already on the march.”
The Lion's Crypt (The Emberlyn Chronicles Book 2) Page 15